


Portholes of Opportunity

by LocalVodkaAunt



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Boats and Ships, Crushes, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocalVodkaAunt/pseuds/LocalVodkaAunt
Summary: Kohaku knows her window of opportunity is small at best, weighing more on the non-existent side. However, she has had these feelings for so long that sometimes they keep her awake at night, sweating with her hand caught between her thighs, still not satisfied even though every millimeter of her skin is sore and over-stimulated. It’s like she has caught a fever and even in her waking hours, the haze tugs her in, makes her mind spin in lazy, pleasure-filled circles around itself.She needs more.In which Gen makes Kohaku an offer she can't refuse.
Relationships: Asagiri Gen/Kohaku
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Portholes of Opportunity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tazzmatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazzmatic/gifts).



> This is a Christmas gift for the lovely Tazz, who has been the light of my life three Christmases in a row - thank you so much for being my friend!! I still struggle to put into words how much it means to me to see your name appear on my screen every day <3 I hope this humble offering of smut will convey my love. 
> 
> Thanks again to Kitsune, who saved me in a last-minute beta-job because that's just the hero she is. 
> 
> And for everyone else - I have fallen HARD for Kohagen, so I hope it will show in my first ever DCST fic ^-^

Kohaku knows her window of opportunity is small at best, weighing more on the non-existent side. However, she has had these feelings for so long that sometimes they keep her awake at night, sweating with her hand caught between her thighs, still not satisfied even though every millimeter of her skin is sore and over-stimulated. It’s like she has caught a fever and even in her waking hours, the haze tugs her in, makes her mind spin in lazy, pleasure-filled circles around itself. 

She needs more. 

On quiet nights on the ship, when everyone is too tired from their day’s work to talk and the only noise around them is the quiet surge of the waves, she lets her gaze wander over the boys on board. She comes up empty. It’s like they don’t even notice her, not in the way she so desperately wants to. It’s not like she is looking for a husband but, between the intrusive advances of Mozu and Ginro and Chrome’s nickname for her, she knows she won’t have much luck finding the assistance she so desperately craves.

“Looking for something, Kohaku-chan?” 

Without her noticing, Gen has crept up on her and is now leaning against the railing, hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his haori. He is smiling, but there is a gleam in his eyes Kohaku knows all too well. 

“What do you want, Gen?” Kohaku is torn between frustration and resignation. She isn’t sure why she hoped tonight would provide her with a solution to her situation, but she feels disappointed nonetheless. 

“You were most interested in the boys tonight.” The drawl in his voice sets Kohaku on edge. He knows. There is no way he doesn’t, not with the way he is always watching them closely, always seeing right through them. Over time, she has gotten used to it, appreciated it even, but now it seems like a threat to her, one she wants to exterminate before it can get too close.

The words fall out of her mouth exactly like she means them, but still more forceful than they would have on any other night. “It’s none of your business.”

“Aww, Kohaku-chan, you wound me.” Gen doesn’t sound fazed at all. “I am merely concerned about your well-being.” And that’s probably true, Kohaku realizes. After all, Gen has never done anything to harm her, yet even his teasing is too much for her right now. She turns to leave. Maybe some time alone in a quiet corner of the ship will help her cool off. 

Before she can get away, though, Gen takes a step forward. “I can help.” 

Oh yes, he definitely knows. His usual playfulness is different now. There’s an edge to it that Kohaku has never noticed before. Even in the scarce light of the few scattered lanterns, she can make out the change - he’s tenser, leaning slightly towards her, waiting. Calculating. Like an animal waiting for the right moment to attack. 

In her veins, she feels the vague pull of desire. 

Damn, she is _desperate_. 

“But you’re not even-” _-interested in women_ , she means to say but the words die of her embarrassment before they get spoken. Instead, she gestures lamely at him. “That.”

Gen just smiles, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards until she can see the barest hint of teeth, his eyes softer than before. “I’m an opportunist,” he informs her. “I would never let something like _that_ prevent me from reaching my goals.” He imitates her gesture for good measure.

Her face is hot. It’s warm tonight, her whole skin is crawling with it. This is it, she thinks, the moment she has waited for. Never once did she imagine Gen to proposition her, didn’t even consider he might be available to help her to release, but the more she thinks about it, the more she can see the merit in it. Gen can keep his secrets. No one knows anything about him. He might be sneaky, sometimes even downright creepy when he sets his mind on something, but she trusts him. If she goes with him, he won’t tell, and he won’t be stupid enough to try and harm her.

Kohaku realizes she has already made her decision.

_____

There isn’t much room for privacy on board the Perseus, but with a bit of stealth and creativity, everything is possible. So Kohaku learns when Gen takes the lead and they eventually end up in a secluded storage loft in the back of the stockroom at least. It’s quiet here, far away from the cabins and the engine room. They climb up the narrow ladder in the half-dark, the only light coming from a lamp at the front of the room. Her heartbeat echoes so loudly inside of her, she wouldn’t be surprised if Gen could actually hear it. It feels weird to just go along with him when she usually never does, but she doesn’t know what to do, what to say. She never thought about the awkwardness gaping between finding a possible companion and the actual event. Never would have guessed there even was something to think _about_. 

For a few moments, she simply sits and waits, watching Gen watching her. She has never thought about it before, but he is handsome in his own way, delicate and lithe. His eyes gleam in the dark, full of an adventurous kind of amusement that would make her boil in anger if she wasn’t so nervous. 

Her hand comes up to play with a strand of hair. Silence stretches between them. Something needs to happen, but she doesn’t know what. The divide between them seems to be endless. 

It’s Gen who moves first because, of course he is. Leave it to him to take the situation out of her hands. Kohaku is relieved about it for once, breathes easier when the responsibility of the first move is taken from her.

Gen scoots closer, diminishing the space between them. He stops at her side, right next to her, and she knows this is one of his tricks, the result of a laid-out plan rather than sincere inclination. Still, she can’t shake the excitement tingling in her gut, feels the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Slowly, Gen strokes the back of her hand, a featherlight touch. It reminds her of trying to lure in a shy animal and momentarily wonders if that’s how Gen sees her too. As if, after all the people he figured out effortlessly, even he can’t see the woman she is underneath.

“You know, Kohaku-chan, normally people touch for the occasion.” 

That bastard. He knows exactly how to push her buttons. She catches his fingers as they’re pulling away. His hands are dry and softer than they have any right to be. They make their way past her knuckles, circle her wrist, and make their way up her bare arms until they reach the straps of her dress, where they linger as if to wait for further instruction. Kohaku has been touched by other people a thousand times, but this feels different. Special somehow. Gen’s fingertips leave a trail of lightning on her skin. It’s purely innocent, but she can feel the potential of it anyway, the certainty tempting her. This is what she has been waiting for. 

It might even be better. 

She wants to touch him too, to wreck his hair that never seems disheveled, see the coal liner around his eyes smudge with sweat. The impulses are new, but she follows them anyway, tangling her fingers in the long strand of white that falls along Gen’s face, slightly pulling it closer to her. He follows willingly as if he just waited for her to catch on to him. She vows to change that as soon as possible.

“I have never done this before.” The words leave her lips before she even thinks them, just tumbling forward with excruciating honesty. Of course, she knows Gen sometimes has this effect on people, can twist and tweak people’s minds until they forget about their reservations and distrust, but she has never counted herself among them. Besides, Gen probably already guessed it from the way she is behaving - insecure and timid where she’s normally loud and brash, taking what she wants instead of waiting for it to happen to her.

Kohaku can feel Gen’s eyes on her, and it’s too clear a challenge for her to refuse, so she meets him head-on. “Ah, Kohaku-chan, you’ll find both me and this _activity_ very forgiving.” The tone of his voice sends a shiver down her spine. He says it like it’s a secret only the two of them share, like they’re conspirators in an intricate plot. It’s exciting, and for one silly moment lets her imagine that she’s a hidden treasure. That she can be found just by people who put in the work and look for it.

Without really knowing what she is doing, she leans in closer, like she is whispering to him, and he is listening, tilting his head to accommodate her before he meets her halfway. 

She wasn’t expecting it, didn’t plan for it either, but when her lips touch his, it’s the right thing to do anyway. They are as dry as his hands, foreign and moving. It takes her a few moments to get used to it, having him so close in her space. The seams of his clothing tickle her bare skin as he reaches up to adjust the angle between them, resting his hand on her cheek. It’s a tender gesture, maybe too much so for the two of them, but Kohaku appreciates the comfort it gives her. She loses himself in it, instinctively moving against Gen, every twist and slide sending shivers down her spine. With more determination than is appropriate, she tugs him forward, deepening the kiss. Her body is slowly igniting, realizing that they are so close to getting what they wished for, the warmth trickling all the way down from her head to her groin where it pools into pleasure. 

Kohaku wants more of it. 

She is worried that she might come across too bold, too demanding, just like the other boys say, but Gen just happily melts into her, a satisfied noise resonating in his throat. She holds them upright as he rests his weight on her, his thumb slowly but surely stroking over her cheekbones, her ear.

Her mouth opens out of reflex. If to breathe or talk she doesn’t know, but Gen uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips. It should be disgusting, but instead of turning her off, the shock of how good it feels almost makes her forget to respond. She manages to hold still only to gain a vague impression of their mission objective before she decides that it isn’t enough. Every inch of her, every private part of her mind screams to be touched, to let go, and finally, finally find relief. 

Distantly, she wonders how many times Gen has done this before. If he’s unnerved by her trying to figure out how to move. How to get him to sound like _that_ again. It would probably be clever to show patience and restraint, but it’s so hard when her hands itch with the desire to rid Gen of his many unnecessary layers of clothes. She keeps him still in her grasp, trying to mimic his responses to the movements of her lips. Eventually, they find a rhythm that fits them - both because Kohaku can feel herself getting wet and because Gen kisses like he does everything else. He is holding back, purposefully understating himself but teasing her regardless, letting her know that he has so much more to give.

Damn, she wants to wipe that carefully established self-control right off his face. Maybe it’s the predator in her, but for a few heartbeats, she wants to ruin him, see him twist and cry beneath her. 

There is no telling how much time has passed when they break apart. Gen’s face is flushed and in the dim light, she can see his chest rise and fall quickly. His hair is disheveled where she touched it, filling her with a gleeful satisfaction, even though she isn’t faring much better herself. It’s like a switch has flipped inside of her, flooding her with so many unknown sensations she’s dizzy with it. She could leave, take the memories of her first kiss, and make the best of it. Sort it out. Reconsider her options. Then again, her lower body is throbbing with want, a dull and still delicious ache. 

She doesn’t want to experiment. Doesn’t want to evaluate the data to build a viable hypothesis only to wait for another opportunity to test it out as Senkuu taught them. She wants everything, and right now. The ferocity surprises her, but when her eyes trail over where her fists have pulled apart Gen’s neat clothes, she is absolutely sure. She wants him. 

He doesn’t seem to be opposed to the idea.

Before she realizes she is moving, she has pulled him into another kiss. It’s different this time. Unhinged. All tentativeness is gone from their motions. Instead, her fingers tear at his haori, eager to see what lies underneath, while his trail up her sides, making her gasp. He stops just short of her breasts, inquiring.

She isn’t having any of it. Impatiently, she presses her chest into his hands, electrified by the contract. When she’s alone, touching her chest is ordinary, boring even. Yet when Gen cups them in his hands, his thumb lightly brushing her nipple, she can’t bite back a moan. Unconsciously, her lower body tenses, desperately trying to increase the stimulation. He slips his fingertips under the seam of her dress, just low enough to tease, but Kohaku has waited too long for this to take it slow. With crude motions, she tears Gen’s clothes free, pulling at the folds and knots holding it all together. His skin is pale below and soft to the touch. Too wound up for gentleness, her fingernails scratch over his shoulders, his chest. When she mirrors him, experimentally circling his nipples, he makes that sound again, the one she wanted to hear again so badly. It spurs her on, and she follows it up with her lips, for no other reason than seeing him lose his perfectly maintained composure. 

Slowly, he sinks back until he is lying on the storage room floor, his haori discarded next to him, the yukata askew. Under her curious gaze, he gradually lets it slip open, revealing a pair of trousers. Kohaku can’t swallow her smile, because Gen dresses so characteristically for himself - the truth hidden under layers and layers of fabric, visible only to people he wants to let in.

He holds out his hand, asking her to join him. Of course, she does, crawling on top of him more confidently than she feels. He grips her thighs almost instantly as if he needs an anchor to hold on to. He looks good like this, she thinks, beneath her. She likes the way his slim body feels between her legs, how the warmth of him seeps into her muscles, her groin. She always imagined she’d have to hold herself back. Even in the kingdom of science, the men are either intimidated by her strength or seek to break it to dominate her. Ever since she was born, she has been either too much or too little, never able to just exist in her own right. She always assumed if she wanted companionship it would come at the price of submission - sides of her she could never show, desires she could only ever dream about. 

However, Gen doesn’t care. She knows he doesn’t shy away from lowering himself momentarily to gain the advantage, doesn’t hold on to his pride as tightly as the other men around her do. It’s comforting, in a way, to know that even if he dares her with every word, every gesture, there is no need to conceal what she really wants. He will simply let her be. 

Effortlessly, her dress is pushed aside. His fingers on the inside of her thighs make her shiver and, as she lowers herself just enough to kiss him, she can feel his erection press against her. The thought of having something, someone inside of her is not a new one, but knowing he is so close to her, only a tiny bit of cloth separating them, makes her ache for it in the most delicious way. 

Before she can figure out what she wants to happen first, Gen’s clever hand pushes aside her panties, and his fingers dip between her folds. She screams, quietly but it still echoes through the room, and her fingers scramble for purchase on his upper body. He takes his time, traces her labia as well as he can in the constraints of her underwear, circles around her clit without really touching it. Her hips jerk in response, fingers digging into his ribs and feeling the bones there. Gen motions to slip into her hole, but doesn’t follow through, only strokes back up when she tries to force him inside with her movements. 

She doesn’t know if she loves or hates him for it. 

Her thighs tremble. In the months leading up to tonight, she has gotten herself off more times than she can count, but his fingers feel entirely different, intensifying every sensation. When he finally takes mercy on her she bites her lips, because she almost can’t stand how the pleasure seems to fill every cell of her body when he is only touching so little of it. Her walls clench around nothing, muscles tensing in preparation for what’s to come. She moves her hips in rhythm with his fingers, and ,unable to keep her hands still, they clasp his clothes, his skin, and finally rest in her hair where she pulls at the roots in a vain attempt to keep herself sane. 

It’s still not enough. 

“Gen,” she manages to growl between two pants of breath, unable to stop grinding against him. “Gen, fuck me already.” 

He doesn’t take his hand away, but his movements become lazy, languid, in random strokes that make her whimper. “I can,” he states simply, “but don’t you think it would be more enjoyable for both of us if you just did it yourself?” 

Dumbfounded, she blinks at him, once, twice, before words finally connect. “Oh.” It’s barely more than a whisper. Then, louder, as the idea begins to sink in. “ _Oh_.” 

“Guessed you’d like that, Kohaku-chan.” He sounds entirely too pleased with himself. 

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of nodding, Kohaku busies herself with pulling her dress over her head. She can see Gen’s eyes following her hungrily and feels triumphant at the thought that she has made him want her. Then she bows down to kiss him again, and when their lips meet now, it’s overflowing with desire, eager and unrefined, like they want to devour each other. 

Before she decided to pursue someone else, Kohaku had thought about sex a lot. In an abstract way, keeping her own desire far away from her, she asked herself how it might feel, how she’d like the other person. If she’d have to close her eyes eventually to get enough enjoyment out of it, or if it would even be good at all. What she couldn’t foresee, however, was just how much she’d burn with it, burn for Gen. Fingers shaking from excitement, she crouches down to rid him of his pants, trying to get off her panties in the process. She can’t wait for their skin to touch, can’t wait for Gen’s well-guarded secret to be lifted.

He touches her while she’s undressing them, small, fluttering contacts of limps, gone before she realizes they’re there, but long enough to drive her crazy. If the ship burned down around them, at this point, she’d be too far gone to care. Eyes never leaving his body, she watches inch by inch appear before her, watches how fine hair and the curve of Gen’s hip bones are revealed. His dick springs free eventually, and she can’t tear her gaze away. The skin is slightly darker than the rest of Gen’s body, the shaft straight and glistening in the low light. Kohaku has never seen a cock before, not up close, but she somehow imagined it bigger and smaller at the same time. She knows her body can give birth to a human, and yet the sight is still intimidating. Then again, from the way she has heard the village brutes talk about their genitals, she had somehow expected it to be a bigger deal. Cautiously, she reaches out to it, fingers brushing over the hot tip. Gen’s breath hitches and his hips jerk into her hand. A tiny drop of moisture gathers at the slit before slowly running down the entire length and disappearing in black pubic hair. 

This is it. She’s really going to lose her virginity tonight. Breathing in deeply, she regains her former position, hovering over his lower body. Hopefully, this won’t hurt, because she needs release like she needs air to breathe.

Yet, she is strangely nervous. Her entire body is exposed before Gen’s eyes. To sit on top of him. She wouldn’t want it to be any other way and yet self-consciousness ebbs at the edge of her mind at the blasphemy.

She is with Gen though, and as soon as she thinks it, he grabs her waist to get her attention. “Come on,” he taunts, a sleazy grin spread over his face like jewelry. “You know you want to.”

Kohaku swallows.

She does. Oh, how she does.

He sits up, supporting himself on his elbows. Then he pulls her down to him, his hands tangling in her braid before loosening the hairband so it falls in her face and over his shoulders. A few strands are getting in the way of their lips, their tongues, but it feels more primal like that, him subtly adjusting her head until it just feels right, until they fit together like they were made for it. 

Suddenly, his erection brushes her entrance. Gen is not pushing into her, but at the contact, Kohaku instinctively lowers her hips and his cock glides into her, filling her until she thinks she can’t handle it anymore. There is a short stab of pain, startling her, but she breathes through it, forcing herself not to stop. She doesn’t know what she is feeling. Awkwardness, pleasure, and excitement are clouding her brain. Only in the back of her mind, she notices that Gen is still touching her, brushing the hair out of her face, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. 

Comfort is not what she needs. After a short moment to gather herself, she manages to look up again. As their eyes meet, she notices that his grin bled into a smile. Her heart clenches at the sight. He looks deeply pleased. Fond. His face is still flushed and his shoulders tense, as if he is waiting for something, but his attention is wholly focused on her, and she bathes in it, in the security that she chose right. 

When their breath slows and her body relaxes again, she lets her head sink down against his as she finally gets used to the feeling of intrusion. Their breath mingles, flowing together.

“Kohaku-chan, if you can, please move.” Even though his tone is playful, Gen’s voice sounds strained as if he is holding back. He is, Kohaku thinks, guilt nagging at her. She hasn’t done anything to make him feel good, only followed her own curiosity and pleasure. 

“I’m sorry.”

“There is no need.” There is no anger or impatience in his voice, only understanding and fragile self-control. “But you are very exciting.” His posture shows exactly how much of an understatement it is. Still, the compliment sends a hot flush through her, fueling her desire even more. 

This is the one thing she didn’t expect. To be desired. 

In a different world, Kohaku would know how to respond to it in kind, but words fail her, and all she can do is follow his request. Slowly ever so slowly, she moves. Her thighs are quivering, uncharacteristically unsteady. Gen comes to her aid when he shifts again and holds up one of his hands, which she takes gratefully. Their fingers intertwine reflexively, holding on tight as if both of them fear the other one might just let go, but it is enough to encourage her, rolling her hips against him. His cock shifts inside of her and she moans at the sensation. Gen feels amazing inside of her, filling her in a deeply satisfying way her own fingers could never achieve. When she repeats the movement, he’s going right along with her, thrusting up slightly. It’s good, so good that she chases it, hoisting herself up before sinking down again, imitating it as best as she can. 

Just like that, the spell is broken. Her head falls back against her shoulders as she shudders. There’s a hunger growing inside of her, similar and yet completely different to the one she already knows from her nightly excursions. Her body develops its own free will, falling into a new motion quicker than she catches on. Her hand clasps Gen’s shoulder, unable to decide if she wants to push him down or pull him closer. His breath comes in fast, hard pants as she keeps on moving, eyes glazed but never wavering from her. She feels like she might explode, like she is aware of every single cell in her body, all vibrating with arousal. One hand closes around her breasts, softly circling her nipple. The almost-touch feels even better than before, and she throbs around Gen’s cock, as if to draw him in even deeper. He moans, eyes closing as his hips jerk, but he doesn’t let up, fingertips trailing the underside of her breast, crossing the valley between them before his hands caress her abs, tracing the muscles underneath, all the way down to her mound. “Yes,” she hisses, only barely resisting to make him hurry up. 

“Kohaku-cha-” The sentiment gets lost when his index finger slips between her lips and she cries. Before, the touch has been overwhelming, but now the world goes black behind her eyes in a sort of unconsciousness that doesn’t make her faint but erases the last inhibitions from her mind. 

“Keep doing that,” she instructs, while simultaneously pressing Gen down against the floor with her free hand. His breath falters as if the air had been punched out of his lungs. She didn’t use any force on him, but he still looks shaken, mouth slack and eyes staring in something that would have been wonder in any other person Kohaku knows.

She doesn’t take time to consider what his expression might mean, though, but leans back a bit, until his cock presses against her walls in just the right way. Her orgasm approaches from where they left off earlier, making her sob as her movements get faster and faster. “Don’t stop,” she tells him as she can feel her toes curling. “Don’t stop, I swear-” but she didn’t have to ask. Gen’s finger presses against her clit, rocking with every up and down of her thighs. She needs release so badly, but doesn’t want to stop at the same time, wants to cling to the edge a little longer to enjoy how her muscles tense around him, how a tiny whimper escapes him every time they tighten. He is far gone. Distractedly, she realizes that she has reached her goal; there is nothing left from the calculating and put-together man who propositioned her earlier tonight. When she slides down on his cock again, he bites his lip, desperate to strangle a cry, the fingers of his left hand spasming in the empty space next to them. The image is enough to push her over, send her mind reeling as her whole body shakes around him. It’s too much, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her. The only thing holding her upright is Gen’s hand, his arm supporting her and she clings to it like it’s a lifeline.

It seems to go on forever, until there’s no breath left in her lungs to make a sound, until she’s so sensitive it hurts. Only then does the sensation ebb away and her body relaxes, allowing her to open her eyes. Gen’s gaze is smoldering on her skin, looking at her as if he can’t quite believe what he just witnessed. “Fuck, Kohaku-chan.” It’s merely a whisper, but it tells her all she needs to know. Biting her tongue, she starts moving again, even if now it feels like an itch, too much stimulation for her exhaustion. Yet Gen is beautiful like this, and she wants to see him fall apart exactly the way she has, wants to rob him of this last intimacy. Their hands are still linked and more than before she trusts in him to hold her even as she picks up speed again, watching him closely for clues on how to make him come.

She doesn’t need to look hard. Quickly, much faster than she has anticipated, his hand comes to rest on her thigh, digging half-moon shaped imprints into the pale skin. “Please,” he begs, but Kohaku can’t tell what he is asking for. Instead, she grips his hand even tighter and crashes down on him with a force that can only be painful.

Kohaku feels raw inside, the chafing is pleasure bordering on pain and she is still sobbing, this time from sheer overstimulation. “Gen.” Her response is as nonsensical as his plea, but he still seems to understand her, moaning in return. Even though she just came, the sound sends a shiver through her. They have no arrangement, no agreement on anything other than tonight, but she knows that she’d never get tired of hearing him so open and desperate. Then he thrusts up into her and she lets him, feeling him pulsing inside her before he comes, a strangled groan on his lips. His eyebrows are drawn together as if in concentration but his mouth hangs open, no hindrance at all for the small noises he makes as he loses himself. Kohaku shivers, arousal clawing at her once again. She could watch him forever.

Eventually, though, his breathing evens out and he sighs, the underlying content satisfying something deep inside of her. Already, she can feel him soften and when he opens his eyes, the first thing she sees is the sheepish glint at her squirming. His hand, which never left hers, she realizes, pulls back so she can remove herself, plummeting next to him onto the hard cabin floor. 

Her knees ache, and his come is trickling out of her, an uncomfortable feeling that makes her flinch, but she can’t hold onto it for too long because Gen is signaling for her to bend down to him again and when they kiss, he slowly pulls her on her back, right next to him. “What-”

“Stay awhile,” he suggests as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We don’t have to leave just yet.” It’s so tempting. Her limbs feel heavy and content is telling her to draw it out just a little longer, to enjoy the feeling of being well and truly calm for once. It strikes her as a lover’s gesture, way too loving for a convenient roll in the hay but, then again, she doesn’t know what else to do and so she settles next to him. Without missing a beat, Gen turns to his side and curls up next to her, close but not quite close enough to touch.

She does it anyway, sneaks her hand into his hair which is matted and slightly wet from his own sweat and counts the strands falling along his temples. “I liked that.”

He laughs, short but with delight, and blinks up to her through half-lidded eyes. “Mission accomplished then.” Kohaku smiles back at him, and for a moment everything about him is so familiar that it hurts. She has missed so many opportunities of seeing him undisturbed, unprotected.

Silence settles between them, but it’s one of those that feel like a blanket. A little bit like trust too. Kohaku listens to Gen breathe as he dozes, his eyes closed and fully relaxed under her touch. Outside, it might be tomorrow already. The sun might come up right now, she thinks but finds that she doesn’t have it in herself to care. Too much has happened tonight for her to be wary of the others.

Time passes slowly, like syrup and lazy mornings in the sun. It can’t last though and just when she is starting to get cold, Gen shifts beside her. “We should go to sleep,” he murmurs tiredly.

He’s right, of course he is, but the thought of getting up and leaving now is sad somehow, like she is losing something she didn’t know she was looking for. She nods anyway, just because there is absolutely no reason for them to stay inside the small bubble they created.

Dressing is easy for her, but for Gen, it takes a few minutes of fidgeting and compulsively rightening his clothes until he is presentable again. There are crinkles in the fabric of his haori and a few spots where dust smeared over the pink. They’re the only signs of what transpired between them because as he finishes his adjustments, all traces of openness have disappeared from his face. He is just like before, unapproachable with all the cards held close to his chest.

And that is sad, too.

She turns to go because stretching it out seems pointless and more painful than it should be.

“You know, Kohaku-chan?” Gen interrupts her inner musing with the unerringly and without mercy, but for once she is glad about it because it means she doesn’t have to look too closely at what it means to her to leave this behind. 

“Yeah?” Even though she tries her hardest, she can not keep all of the emotion out of her voice. 

“If you ever find yourself in need of company again, I would be more than happy to help you out.” He winks at her as if she’s a girl on her way to the water well and he’s a nosy bypasser. Only this time around, it makes her laugh, and the weight lifts off her chest just like that, gone literally in the blink of an eye. Tonight, she is grateful for it, and hopeful, for the first time in forever. 

When she finally answers, her voice is husky. “Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

“Anytime!” He draws out the ‘e’, ending in a note, and uses the distraction to whirl around and make his way down to the storage room door. Kohaku watches him leave, but the melancholy has passed and all that’s left is a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. A faint trace of hopefulness settles over her, even as Gen vanishes into the shadows, the door eventually falling shut behind him with a muffled bang.

It seems like her window of opportunity has been blown open wide.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please consider dropping me a line or an emoji, and thank you so much for staying with me throughout this fic! *~*~*


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